


there must be some finesse

by rarmaster



Series: don't you worry child [16]
Category: Tales of Symphonia
Genre: ''kratos don't be a dick'' the fic, Crossover Shenanigans, DYWC, Gen, chara undertale and malos xenoblade are both here but they each have like two lines lmao, mithos and anna are friends in this one (thanks AU shenanigans), parallel universe shenanigans, rated T for how much anna cusses mostly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:02:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24341749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rarmaster/pseuds/rarmaster
Summary: DYWC. Direct sequel tomy heart is housed in ironworks.Kratos meets with an alternate universe reflection of his brother and his wife.Mithos is furious. Anna tries to get Kratos to pull his head out of his ass.Or: YWKON Anna and ToS Kratos bond over the one thing they have in common, that one thing being "not being their for their son when they should have been".
Relationships: Anna Irving & Mithos Yggdrasill, Kratos Aurion & Lloyd Irving & Anna Irving, Kratos Aurion & Mithos Yggdrasill, Mithos Yggdrasill & Lloyd Irving
Series: don't you worry child [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1414204
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	there must be some finesse

**Author's Note:**

> [jazz hands] cross universe shenanigans is my favorite type of content
> 
> Mithos and Anna are from a XC2 AU called YWKON, except they're actually both from an rp AU of ywkon called wbywkon (we broke ywkon). you can get the tldr versions of their lore [here](https://rarsneezes.dreamwidth.org/24351.html), or you can read their big relevant rp scenes with lloyd [here (mithos)](https://summonerd.dreamwidth.org/500.html?thread=224244#cmt224244) and [here (anna)](https://summonerd.dreamwidth.org/500.html?thread=60660#cmt60660)
> 
> this is mostly just catharsis for the wbywkon crew LMAO
> 
> reminder that ToS Kratos is from act 2 of Symphonia. 
> 
> content warnings for not exactly suicidal ideation, just "well, i assume i'm going to die, so i'll make plans around said death"

The first thing Kratos Aurion realizes, when he steps out of the rip in space that Mythra has cut for him, is that he’s being fucked with.

Mythra did not send him back to his companions, his “team”. She’s sent him to another world entirely. A world of dark, starry skies, a planet large and blue visible on the short horizon before him. The dust beneath his feet is white like snow but it feels nothing like snow does, and there isn’t a real chill here, at all—something Kratos has noticed often, all the places he’s been forced to visit up until now; the weather is basically nonexistent. The landscape is technically barren, save for the craters.

Kratos stands beneath the rising ridge of one crater now, a ridge that must give way to a crater on the other side. And standing near the _top_ of the crater’s ridge, a little way’s off, is the reason he’s certain he’s being fucked with.

Because one of the three figures up there is Mithos.

And another is,

Somehow, perhaps by the same means that he just met with a reflection of himself,

Even though it’s definitely a cruel joke,

Or some divine prank,

( _He wonders if Mythra is laughing at him, right now,_ )

Because that’s Anna, isn’t it?

It… must not be his Anna. And perhaps not his Mithos, either. Because he cannot imagine either his Anna or his Mithos standing in such close proximity without trying to murder one another, unless something horrible of a completely different fashion was happening. But if he listens, he can hear them talking to each other, and if he listens to the conversation, well:

“Anna sometimes I wonder which one of us is the adult.”

“I _know_ how to stick a landing, Mithos! Besides, the gravity’s all fucky here, so like—”

The two of them are not laughing, exactly, but all the exasperation passed between them seems good-natured, both voices completely devoid of malice. It sounds just like Mithos and Yuan, gently bickering over dinner. Like Anna, arguing with her Papa about any number of ideas she had about combatting Desians. Like Lloyd and Genis, in a way, about any number of things, and it makes Kratos ache three times over with nostalgia for three vastly different times. He’s not sure which one hurts the most.

( _the other Kratos, the blade Kratos, in his face, fingers furious as he signed “I understand you’re a shitty fucking father”, and_

 _Yeah, he is. He’s a shitty fucking brother, too. And a shitty fucking husband._ )

Kratos sighs, standing very still as he tries to figure out what he’s going to do from here. He doesn’t want to talk to Mithos. He’s too afraid to face Anna, too afraid to see her, happy and bright and _alive,_ not sure if his heart could take the pain of it.

Is he running away? Well.

( _“Of course you are,” the other Kratos had accused. “That’s all you fucking do.”_

 _He wasn’t wrong._ )

As Kratos stands here, he hears more of the conversation.

“ _Please_ let her jump, I _need_ to know if there’s fall damage here,” comes a new voice, the voice of—oh yes, there are three of them up there. Kratos knew that. The third person is a child of Mithos’ age ( _physically, at least_ ), though that’s about as much as Kratos can tell from this distance.

“If you break your legs, daddy’s not gonna be here to heal you,” Mithos spits, and there’s the sharpness Kratos is familiar with, though it’s dulled by familiarity, shaped in the way of teasing between family.

“Oh don’t call him daddy, I don’t like hearing that word come out of your mouth.”

…if Kratos has to hear Anna say even one more word, he doesn’t know if he’ll take it. He hardens his heart as well as he can, turns away from the crater, away from the reflections of a family he has no right to, anymore. If he walks far enough away, he can safely get the attention of one of the Aegises to send him back to where he belongs.

He hates Mythra, a little, for not sending the other Kratos here. He would have deserved this.

“Hey, before I have to think about any of what either of you just said, which on record I don’t know if I like,” comes that third voice. “Are the two of you seeing what I’m seeing? We appear to have company.”

Well, shit.

“Do w— _oh fuck_! Kratos!!” Anna’s voice pitches with her delight and Kratos feels his heart break in several places, because he’s going to have to tell her he’s not who she wants to see, and he. He doesn’t even remember if that’s how she used to sound. He doesn’t remember the shape of her voice. He doesn’t know how to cope with the swell of fondness in his heart that tastes too much like grief, a knife in his ribs as she makes that jump she was threatening too, landing rather gracefully between the low gravity and what is clear experience, catching the slope about halfway down and skidding down with it with one hand to brace herself.

Technically, it’s not too late to leave, but.

“Wait, Anna- _Anna!_ ” Mithos calls, furious, and he’s skidding down the slope after her, and when that’s not fast enough for him, pulling out his wings to catch up to her before she can sprint across the distance that remains between her and Kratos. Kratos takes this moment to note that Mithos is _definitely_ not the Mithos he knows, because his Mithos’ wings are not a solid sky blue.

“What!!” Anna says, letting Mithos stop her but not necessarily sounding excited about it.

“Not our Kratos,” Mithos spits, sharp, and the look he sends over his shoulder would surely have vaporized Kratos on the spot if looks had such power.

“Oh,” Anna says.

And that one little word, the disappointment-bordering-anger in it, makes Kratos’ heart drop to his toes.

( _Technically, it’s still not too late to leave, but Kratos’ feet remain rooted to the spot._ )

“If not ours…” Anna begins, leaning past Mithos enough to look at Kratos. Kratos turns his head away. He doesn’t want to see.

“Architect,” Mithos answers, like that means something. “ _Father_ ,” he spits, and nearly gives Kratos whiplash.

“Eugh, if we had to get stuck with a Kratos, why him,” Anna grumbles, and. Fine, whatever. It makes Kratos’ heart literally rot to hear, but she has a point.

“I believe Mythra’s fucking with me,” he answers, because if he’s going to be made a mockery of, he might as well let them all in on the joke. His day couldn’t possibly get worse. “She could have just as well sent me back to my companions, but instead, here I am.”

“I…” Anna begins. Kratos still doesn’t look at her. Can’t look at her. What’s the point? It’s not _his_ wife. It’s not _his_ Anna. “Sorry, okay, that probably sounded way ruder than it—”

“No I think he deserves at least that,” Mithos interjects.

“It’s not _his_ fault he’s not the Kratos we want to see.”

“You really think that’s the only reason I’m mad at him? Really?”

“Clearly this is long before he becomes the asshole god who makes our world—” okay literally what does Kratos begin unpacking, there, “—so it’s not fair to take that out on—”

“ _Did you forget about Lloyd,_ ” Mithos spits, and Kratos can hear his fury, _feel_ his fury, mana sparking in the air around him like it’s going to shred the very world they stand on or maybe rip Kratos in two, and Mithos just hasn’t decided which, yet. For the first time in… ever, perhaps, Kratos actually feels a trill of fear in his gut. His Mithos has never, ever wanted to hurt him.

He’s not sure how to cope with the taste of that betrayal, so he doesn’t.

“What about Lloyd?” he asks, as if he cannot remember the gist of what the other Kratos told him, as if he cannot remember Mithos’ own volatile fury in the memories that were shared with him.

Mithos’ laugh is high and sharp. “What about Lloyd?” he repeats, rounding on Kratos. “What _about_ Lloyd!?” He takes a step forward, mana singing at his fingertips. Kratos doesn’t move.

“Mithos,” Anna warns.

Mithos shoves Kratos in the chest.

Kratos staggers back—further than he means to, in the low gravity—but honestly, he was expecting much worse.

“ _Fuck you_ for what you did to my brother!” Mithos screams. “You’re supposed to be his fucking father and you _attacked him,_ you _betrayed him,_ you _left him._ I cannot _believe_ he forgives you for all that, because _I would never!_ ”

“I…” Kratos begins, mouth working though he didn’t tell it to. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t even know where to begin, trying to understand all that.

Mithos opens his mouth, then shuts it. He shakes with his fury, but after a moment, he turns on his heel.

“I can’t- I don’t- I don’t even want to see your fucking face,” Mithos manages, and he storms off.

“Fucking hell,” Anna sighs, watching Mithos go. “Definitely thought I was going to have to try and keep him from murdering you,” she comments and that’s. Not at all comforting. Nor is it any less confusing.

Anna probably expects him to say something. Kratos can’t.

He still wants to leave, if he’s honest. Now that he’s alone with Anna, he’s…

( _He doesn’t know what to do, what to think, so instead he just doesn’t. Looking at her is like salt on a wound he’d thought had closed but apparently never did. Being near her burns him in ways he cannot express, and it doesn’t matter. She’s not his Anna. So he doesn’t have to process hope or relief or any of that. She’s just another woman with his wife’s face and voice and—it’s not like he really remembers either of those things, anyway, it’s been so long, fifteen years is so long, of course he doesn’t know_

_Anything about her_

_It doesn’t matter it doesn’t matter it doesn’t matter it doesn’t matter it doesn’t matter_ )

Anna sighs. “I guess I should probably explain,” she says.

Kratos doesn’t care if she does or not. Predictably she takes his silence as cue enough to keep talking.

( _It doesn’t matter but there are some things about her that he has, in fact, not forgotten_ )

“So,” Anna says. “Um. To make a long story as short as I possibly can, we’ve met… your Lloyd.”

“I know,” Kratos interjects, to save her the trouble, though he still cannot make himself look at her. “I just spoke with your Kratos. He… mentioned.”

In a fashion of invading Kratos’ mind and dumping memories on him like a cold bucket of water, anyway.

“Oh good, I guess that means I have to explain less— _wait what do you mean you saw my Kratos._ ” How incredulous Anna finds this is clear in her tone. If Kratos were looking at her, he expects he would see her drop crossed arms from her chest, but he isn’t looking at her, and he does his best not to imagine it. “What the fuck,” Anna continues. “Why did Mythra send _you_ here and not him?”

“Again, I suspect I’m being fucked with.”

“What the hell!!! I want to see my actual husband?” Anna might as well be whining. Kratos is too numb to feel any fondness, or anything else. It would hurt too much to feel, so he simply doesn’t. “I- I mean, like, no offense,” Anna tacks on, awkwardly.

“None taken,” Kratos assures her.

He would be feeling something significantly different right now if she were his Anna, after all. He might even _let_ himself feel it.

“…well, now I feel a little bit shit,” Anna mumbles.

Kratos sighs.

He doesn’t need her to elaborate, exactly. Or—as much as he’s curious about what Anna mentioned about the him-being-a-god-apparently thing, he’s not sure he actually _wants_ to know the details, there. And as far as Lloyd goes… the picture’s pretty clear. They met his Lloyd, and they’re angry on Lloyd’s behalf, and that’s… fine. He probably deserves that. He’s doing what he can to keep Lloyd safe, and out of the crossfire, but he’s had to make a lot of compromises, too.

It’s a difficult situation.

(… _he’s not sure he understands why_ Mithos, _of all people, is so furious over the matter, but it makes him ache, in a way. For a universe where Lloyd and Mithos could have gotten along. A universe where Mithos could be the uncle he always wanted to be._ )

There’s one thing Kratos doesn’t understand, though.

And since Anna’s taking a second to pick some new words, he better ask now, before he loses the chance.

“There’s just one thing I don’t understand,” he says, carefully. “You all keep saying something about me leaving Lloyd, and it doesn’t… It doesn’t make any sense to me.” He runs his thumbs over his fingertips, a grounding sensation. Looks at the far horizon rather than at Anna. Her other companion, the child, is over that direction. Mithos seems to have stormed off even further. Anyway. “I- I’ll admit, I’ve done a lot of things, but I don’t think I should be blamed for being quite certain he was dead.”

“Oh!” Anna says. “Oh, no, not that,” she assures Kratos. “That’s- that makes sense. I can’t blame you for that one.

“Then… why?”

Anna sighs, this time, long and slow. Kratos can feel her looking at him, making a decision.

“Look, can we sit?” she asks. “I feel like an ass just standing around here.”

“…sure,” Kratos answers. Fine, he can do that for her.

It’s hard _not_ looking at her, when she sits down, especially since he has to gauge where she’s sitting so he can sit, too. She looks the same. She looks different. It’s hard to say. He doesn’t remember. They’re sitting across from each other, a few feet away from each other, Kratos angled slightly away because he _is_ a coward and. Anna laughs to herself as she dusts off her hands—somehow he remembers it’s the laugh meant for filling a silence she thinks too quiet.

“What did Chara call this?” she says, just wondering aloud. Kratos remembers that, too. “Moondust, or something? I swear, it gets everywhere. Worse than sand.” She laughs, again. “Anyway.”

She stops, there, doesn’t say anything for a moment. It’s strange, sitting here, next to her. Kratos would almost think he was dreaming, except his dreams are not this kind, and… the moondust? The texture of it on his fingertips is much too specific, too unique, to be a dream. Still.

Desperate for anything to distract himself from his thoughts, not wanting to get too lost in them while Anna picks her words, Kratos watches as she runs her left thumb over the knuckles of her right hand. It’s mesmerizing, in a way. And if he watches, then he’ll think about the scars on her right hand, pale and almost a spiderweb, she runs her thumb over the lines of them on her fingers. Those look… like scarred mana channels, interestingly enough. Can humans wield mana, on her world?

If he could find words to speak to her, he’d ask.

Or maybe it’s none of his business.

“Okay, so,” Anna says, and Kratos puts his thoughts aside. “After the journey ends, and your batshit Mithos is taken care of, you leave,” she says. “Like, the _entire planet._ ”

Kratos blinks. “I what.”

“Yep,” Anna says, short and just shy of furious. When Kratos fumbles a little longer for words—and how is he supposed to _find_ words, what does she mean he left the planet? Is there such a way? …Derris-Kharlan, he supposes, but… but…

Anyway, he feels Anna’s gaze on him, sharp. “Sound like something you’d do?”

“I…” Kratos begins, still at a loss for words.

The thing is, even if he could leave on Derris-Kharlan, and could probably come up with a few reasons why he might, that… The problem is… Mithos dying wouldn’t be enough to fix the two worlds. Origin would still need to be released. And considering Origin’s seal is tied directly to Kratos’ own mana, Origin would not be released unless Kratos himself died.

Is Anna implying he survives that, somehow?

 _How_?

“Look, it doesn’t matter,” Anna continues, in his silence. “Clearly you haven’t done that yet, which means it’s not too late for you to—just not. Just don’t. Just _stay,_ with your Lloyd. _Please,_ Kratos.” Her voice is pleading, a note of pain underneath it, and despite all his efforts the numbness in his heart parts enough for him to feel unease.

He looks up at Anna, the weight of her pain drawing him in.

She knocks a closed fist into an open hand, repeatedly, fidgeting with either anger or something else, despair written plain on her face under the open frustration. “Look, I get it,” she says, and it’s shaky. “I get it. I- I _understand_ wanting to make sure Lloyd is safe, more than anything else. But. I know that’s not… It’s…” She’s fumbling for the words, knuckles striking against her skin a little slower, a little harder. “His assumed safety is _not_ worth fucking out of his life and never seeing him again. And- and literally _choosing_ to abandon him is. That’s. Don’t do that. Please don’t do that. Please don’t fuck up, like I did.”

Kratos stares at her. Like… she did?

( _Yes, like she did._

_Because when separated from her son, she took one look at the life before her, determined it was too dangerous for a child, and let him go._

_She didn’t look for him for five years.)_

_((In another time, another universe, she wouldn’t look for him at all. In another time, another universe, it would be fifteen years before she ever reunited with her son._

_And it would be much longer before her son would ever forgive her.))_

Anna breathes, sharp and slow, eyes not fixed on Kratos but somewhere over his shoulder, lost in her thought or in trying to hold back the strength of what she feels. She’s not quite crying, not yet, but she cries fairly easy when she’s frustrated, Kratos knows _(still remembers)._

“It’s just- a shitty thing to do to Lloyd, for starters,” Anna continues, squeezing her hands together. “But also the guilt will eat you forever, Kratos, trust me. It will eat you _forever._ And- And Lloyd deserves better than that.”

Yes, well.

Maybe he does, but—imagining Kratos _does_ survive releasing Origin, what is he meant to do, then? Anna might understand, in some funhouse mirror of the situation, but unless she is nearly as old as he is, unless she has committed the same sins he has, she doesn’t _fully_ understand it. Can he really, in good conscious, lay his burdens out for _Lloyd_ to bear? That’s not fair to him either.

Lloyd doesn’t even know Kratos is his father. It’s probably better that it stays that way.

“Lloyd deserves better than having me in his life,” he insists, resolute.

“No,” Anna says. “You don’t get to make that decision.”

“What.”

“It’s not for you to decide!” Anna’s anger is bright, a tight smile on her lips. “Whether or not Lloyd wants you in his life—that’s not for _you_ to decide, that’s for _Lloyd_ to decide. And your Lloyd— he’s like, what? Eighteen? Older than that? Old enough to make that decision for himself, that’s for sure!”

“I…” Kratos begins, but doesn’t get the chance to breathe in the wake of Anna’s anger.

“I don’t know your reasons for leaving, and clearly you don’t either, but for the love of fuck, _consult Lloyd_ before you just assume he doesn’t want you around! And don’t just abandon him.” Anna slams her hands against her knees, drags her palms across her skin. “I _know_ what kind of high horse you can get on because I can get up there too but it’s not- it’s- Don’t _do_ that to Lloyd. He deserves better from us than us thinking we know what’s best for him and then leaving him in the dirt. So don’t you _dare_ think of leaving, when this is all over.”

“I don’t…” Kratos begins, scowling. Anna at least gives him the space to breathe, here. But he doesn’t… Her words have merit, and this is clearly coming from a place of pain, for her. And maybe- maybe she knows more about Lloyd than he does. But how much does she know about _him?_ How much does she know about Kratos Aurion, the man sitting before her?

She’s not his wife, so she probably doesn’t know much at all.

“It’s not that easy,” Kratos says.

Anna’s eyebrows raise into her hairline.

“It’s _not_?” she repeats.

“It’s…” Kratos curls his hands into fists, presses his knuckles down into the odd dust upon which he sits, ducks his head down. “He doesn’t even know… I haven’t told him…”

Anna does not so much gape at him as stare at him with an expression of pained disbelief, like she is unsurprised but wishes she wasn’t. “ _Architect_ ,” she swears, under her breath. “Kratos, you have to tell him.”

“I do not,” Kratos answers, and maybe he shouldn’t argue with his wife over their son, but again: not his wife. Not technically.

“Yes you do,” Anna repeats. “Because, no, shut up, listen.” She leans forwards towards him, scowling with urgency. “He’s _going to find out._ Somehow or another he’s going to find out and— wouldn’t you much prefer he heard the truth from you and not from someone else?”

…she has something of a point there.

But.

He opens his mouth, but only gets that fair.

“Hold on a fucking minute,” Anna says. “I just processed—are you telling me you _never intended on telling him._ ”

“Well.”

Anna leans back like she’s been struck. Very, very slowly, she runs a hand up her face. “Kratos—” she starts, and gets caught there, her voice cracking with emotion. When she drops her hand, Kratos can see tears in the corners of her eyes. She blinks at the tears, eyes fixed more towards the sky than Kratos. “How are you so _stupid!?_ No wonder he—”

She doesn’t finish. Kratos raises her eyebrows at her, curious.

“No wonder he what?” he presses, assuming she’s talking about Lloyd.

Anna squeezes her eyes shut. She breathes very long, very slow. When she finally settles her gaze on Kratos, she’s crying much more steadily now, silent tears pouring down her cheeks.

“Kratos, _please_ understand how much that that breaks him, okay?” she says, her voice watery. “I’ve seen what Lloyd’s like, after you leave and—no fucking wonder, if- if—” She laughs, sharp, sad. “He fucking- _he doesn’t really think we ever loved him, Kratos._ He doesn’t think he was ever worth our love. Do you know how _fucked up_ that is?”

Kratos’ heart drops into his stomach.

Anna keeps going.

“And I’m- I’m dead in your world, you know? So I can’t change his mind. _You_ have to, Kratos. _You_ have to. And if you leave? That’s it! He’ll spend the rest of his fucking life thinking his parents never loved him!” She laughs, short and manic, tosses her hands up in the air. She looks to Kratos, pleading, broken. “Don’t do that to him, Kratos. _Please_ don’t do that to him.”

Kratos is very, very quiet, as that washes over him.

If Lloyd never knew, never discovered who Kratos was, then he would simply spend the rest of his life thinking his father died the same night his mother did, in blissful ignorance. But if Lloyd finds out, that all falls apart, doesn’t it? And he remembers…

( _“It’s not like… I really know anything about my parents at all.”_

 _“I’m sure they’d both be proud of you. As long as you’re happy, and well… that’s enough.”_ )

…but that’s not enough, is it?

“Okay,” Kratos answers, for Anna’s sake. “I won’t.”

Of course, seeing as he’ll have to die to release Origin, it’s not like he _can_ leave, anyway. But… the least he can do is make sure Lloyd is certain that his parents love him before he dies, right? That’ll have to be enough.

( _He doesn’t bother telling Anna about Origin. It’s not her burden to bear._

 _Especially seeing as she’s not_ his _Anna._ )

“Good,” Anna says. She cracks him a smile, wipes at her eyes, unashamed. “ _Good,_ you better, you asshole. Lloyd deserves so much better from us.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Kratos tells her.

“All you have to do is not leave, and the rest—probably won’t be perfect, but, whatever, good enough,” Anna declares. She sniffs once, wipes her eyes again, and then gets to her feet. “I’m gonna go for a walk. If Mithos finds you before I get back just—tell him that you promised me you wouldn’t leave Lloyd. That should keep him from ripping your head off.”

She shoots Kratos a smile, waves, and then walks before Kratos can say anything.

That’s fine.

He’s not sure what to say, or if he really _has_ anything to say. Questions about Mithos, maybe—or more questions about Lloyd, if he was brave enough for that—but… He can take his time to think them over, now. And pin down how, exactly, he feels about Anna.

It’s mostly just weird. A little cruel.

…he supposes he’ll have to get used to it, though.

“There you are!” comes a voice, and Kratos immediately gets to his feet. Whether they’re on his side or not, he’s not foolish enough to sit around when one of the four most powerful beings in this space greets him. This is… Alvis’ brother. Malos was it?

Malos rolls his eyes, putting a hand on his hip. “Absolute bitch to track down,” he comments, and though Kratos is not foolish enough to remain sitting, he has pride enough to refrain from apologizing for something that wasn’t his fault. “I bet Mythra thinks she’s real funny—well, whatever.” Malos shakes his head, and with a flick of his wrist, a portal opens to Kratos’ right.

This again, huh?

( _Well, he can’t say he isn’t glad that he won’t have to spend any more time with these strange reflections of his brother and his wife. And the others on his “team” are probably worried about him. He… misses them, a little._ )

“When can I go home?” Kratos asks, before he steps through. He doesn’t really expect an answer from Malos any different than the one Alvis gave him.

“When this is over,” Malos answers, like he couldn’t care less. “So get your ass moving and stop wasting time.”

That’s fair.

Presumably, Malos will tell Anna and the rest that Kratos has left. Kratos also supposes it isn’t his problem.

He steps through the portal.


End file.
